


Trials of A Night

by JulianGreystoke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Calling, City Elf, Cold, Darkspawn, Elf, Getting to know, Hannah Jones - Freeform, Help, Human, Jeremy - Freeform, King - Freeform, Night, Nightmare, Other, Search, Sleepwalking, The Taint, Winter, castle - Freeform, castle Theirin, characters, friends - Freeform, introduction, partners, servant - Freeform, squire, squires, the song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianGreystoke/pseuds/JulianGreystoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Alistair is a Grey Warden, and the people fear his eventual descent into madness because of the darkspawn taint in his blood.  But he seems normal enough, at least to his newest squire, Hannah Jones.  Until one night her fellow squire Jeremy wakes her up to tell her the king has gone missing in his own castle, and it is up to the pair to find him before he hurts himself, or worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trials of A Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note: while Hannah and Jeremy are two characters from one of my other fics "The New Ways of Old Gods", you do not need to have read that fic to enjoy this one.

Trials of a Night

“Hannah.”

Someone was shaking her awake. A gentle hand on her shoulder and a not-so-gentle shove. She groaned, forcing her sleep heavy eyes to open. She winced and blinked. He was holding the candle too close to her face. “Dammit, Jer, what?” she growled, trying to roll over. Then she remembered herself and turned back, her eyes snapped open wider, “what's wrong?”

The elf who had been shaking her, Jeremy, rocked back on his heels, almost toppling over where he squatted beside her little bed. His own eyes were dark points in his long, pale, face. His shoulder length, dark brown hair was a thicket of bed-head. “I need your help, Hannah,” he said, quietly.

The woman sat up, shaking her head to try to clear away her dream. “I gathered as much from your waking me in the middle of the night,” she muttered as she gave her fastidious little bedroom a quick scan, as he had been trained. 'Never enter a room without checking it thoroughly with your eyes.' She counted waking up as entering a room. “What is it?” she asked.

“You know how I told you that the king...sometimes takes little walks at night?”

“Yes,” she wrinkled her nose slightly as she squinted at her fellow squire. He'd thrown his tunic on hastily. One of his boots was not laced. “And you told me that he sometimes doesn't mean to.”

“Yes, well,” Jeremy sighed, “he seems to have gone for one of those walks tonight.”

Hannah swung her legs over the side of the bed where her boots awaited her feet. She fumbled them on, tying the laces clumsily. “Hand me my tunic.”

Her partner crossed the room and took down one of her uniforms from a selection hanging neatly in a row. Blue with the symbol of the royal family emblazoned on them. Only the king, queen, knights and the two king's squires were allowed to wear the emblem so prominently on their garb. As Jeremy retrieved her tunic Hannah pulled on her leggings, “Didn't you brag to me that you always noticed him right away when he wakened during the night? Something about your superior elvish hearing?”

“That was mostly a joke,” Jeremy grumbled. “I am good at noticing him, but may I remind you that I am still getting over a cold?” He made a show of sniffling and wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

“Uh-huh,” Hannah huffed as he pulled on the tunic. She hadn't even been certain if he had been telling the truth about the king's night time wanderings. She knew King Alistair was a grey warden, and she had been told by countless people that it would mean he was well on his way to going mad. She'd been so nervous, meeting him for the first time only two months before when she officially joined Jeremy as his personal squires. But the king was nothing like she had expected. Warm, kind and jovial, he had put her at ease at once. His style was far more lax than anything she had ever experienced, and she had been put off to start. She'd been trained, disciplined, and here was this man so seemingly no sense that he was king at all. He had grown on her quickly however.

It had taken her longer to come to like Jeremy. He was at least ten years her senior, but often acted as though she were the elder. 'Messy, and unprofessional,' she had written in a letter back home to her sisters, describing the elf. He'd seemingly been plucked from the city streets and given the job with little training at all. No wonder the king needed her. But Alistair relied on Jeremy, and the elvish squire did have a knack for knowing what the king wanted, and providing it before Hannah even realized what he was doing. “If you were sick, you should have told me to take the position for another night.” the squires took turns sleeping in the king's chambers. Mostly to protect him in the unlikely event of an assassination attempt.

Jeremy shrugged, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening, “He was very sneaky tonight. What can I say? Now will you help me find him or not?”

“I'm coming,” she grumbled, checking her braid with her hands to ensure it was still in place. This done she buckled her belt and reached for her sword.

“A blade? Really?”

She glanced at her companion. His belt was bare. She cocked an eyebrow, “you don't think-”

“I don't think,” he shook his head, his messy hair flopping making him look simultaneously like a shaggy dog and a porcupine. “We're just searching the castle for the king, not hunting bandits. Come on, hero.” He gestured her to follow him out the door.

Hannah hung her sword back on its pegs on the wall, but took a dagger and tucked it carefully into the special holder on her boot. Jeremy observed this and shook his head, glanced skyward as though the Maker might have answers as to why his partner was so absurd. “First we have to rule out that he didn't just go to the kitchen for a midnight snack,” the elf stated, taking the lead.

“Agreed,” Hannah nodded, though her opinion had not been asked. “The simplest solution is often the right one.” She heard Jeremy heave an expressive sigh, but he offered no further comment.

The pair checked the kitchens with no luck, though Jeremy did stop to flirt a pretty kitchen helper out of a pair of scones which were intended for that morning's breakfast.

“Where next?” Hannah asked, taking the scone he offered her as they left the warmth of the kitchens.

Jeremy pondered for a moment, his mouth full of scone, his thin lips already wearing a coat of crumbs. He was tall for an elf. though Hannah still had a few good inches on him. She was the tallest in her intimidate family, lean and well built. A bit hippy, but armor could disguise that. She hated when men stared at her curves as though they somehow made her less able to do her job. As if her chest could somehow spoil her years of training. Said chest was usually well lashed down with her breast band. She watched the elf with no small amount of scrutiny.

“You keeping looking at me like that I'm going start thinking you can see clean through me and into the kitchen,” he commented, shaking her from her staring. “Let's check the kennel. Sometimes he likes to visit his hound, though not usually at night.” Jeremy admitted.

The two were on their way again, up from the kitchens, which were below ground, to the courtyard, to the dog kennels, which were located beside the stables. Hannah loved the hounds, but the smell of so many beasts all in one place was still a little overwhelming. Many of the huge war dogs awoke when the two squires entered, small ears pricking up, bobbed tails waggling. The king's mabari was a muddy colored behemoth simply called 'Brown'.

“He didn't name him,” Jeremy said, noticing Hannah absently running her pale fingers over the copper name plate on the dog's pen.

Brown raised his square head and his tongue lolled as he watched the pair of visitors with intelligent eyes. “Haven't seen you master, have you?” Hannah asked the dog.

Brown whimpered and tilted his head, but offered nothing more. Jeremy chuckled.

“What?” Hannah demanded, folding her arms, “Mabari are as intelligent as we are. That's what my old training master used to tell me.”

“Oh, I have no doubt of that,” the elf said, raising his hands, placating. “But his true master isn't the king.”

Hannah pondered for a moment, then understood. “The Warden. The Hero of Fereldan.” She knew she was right.

“Yes,” Jeremy nodded. “And Brown here is still loyal to her, even though she is-”

“Dead,” Hannah cut him off. Her voice must have been a little rigid, a little too cold, because Jeremy blinked at her as though she had taken a swing at him. “Sorry,” she dipped her head. “Where next?”

“I have one more idea,” Jeremy said, hugging himself and heading back out into the yard. Winter was upon the land and both squires breaths ghosted from their lips as they traveled back across the massive courtyard.

“Is it true?” Hannah asked as they crunched through the snowy yard, “that the king and the Hero were...together?”

Jeremy didn't answer, but he didn't need to. His silence spoke louder than his words might have. His dark eyes glanced back at her. A warning. Change the subject, they cautioned her. She wondered at this, until she spotted one of the wall guards watching them from above. She shut her mouth into a hard line, determined not to speak again as they made for the combat practice arena.

The training dummies stood like odd little sentinels, some lopsided, some missing limbs. The area was partially fenced with tall boards, so the cold air did not slice through here as badly as it did in the courtyard. Hannah relished this as her keen eyes scanned for any sign of her ruler. “Are you from Denerim, Jeremy?” she asked. She wasn't certain why she asked it, or why she had not queried him sooner. They'd been partners for two months, yet she knew very little about him, save that he has been squire for a four years before she had come along, and that he was a city elf, not Dalish.

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, striding over to check behind a practice dummy. “From the alienage. I can still remember the first time I saw the king. When he came with the Hero and they freed us from the thumb of a bunch of unscrupulous slavers. I was younger then, of course, but thoroughly embarrassed that humans had to come in and save our skins.”

“The Hero was elvish.”

“Dalish,” Jeremy shrugged again. His rumpled tunic slid so it was even more lopsided. Hannah had to fight the urge to correct it.

“So still embarrassing.”

“Highly,” Jeremy kicked a discarded practice shield out of his way as he followed the parameter of the area in one direction as Hannah went the other way.

“And you saw the king and you instantly wanted to serve him?”

“I thought he was a git.”

A laugh bubbled out of her before she had a chance to sensor it. She blushed, though she knew he could not see in the dim light of the nearby torches. “So what changed your mind?”

“After he became king he still wanted to help us. To make our lives better. It really seemed like he wanted to help people. Especially poor people. You don't usually see that from a lord.”

“True,” Hannah agreed.

“You?” Jeremy asked, meeting her in the middle of the yard. Their boots scratched against the hay and gravel that had been put down to keep people from slipping.

“I was raised on a farm in the Hinterlands near Redcliff. I come from a big family. Born right in the middle of the pack,” she mimicked the elf's noncommittal shrug. “I've always wanted to prove myself. I worked hard to get where I am. I trained for years under the best people I could find, and my family could afford.”

“You have sisters, right?” he cocked an angular eyebrow at her.

“Yes. All sisters. I'm not the only one with fighting prowess, but I like to think I'm the best of the bunch.”

“Your father must be proud.”

“He's dead. Mother's very proud though.”

Jeremy laughed, his eyes twinkling in the torchlight. “I'm sorry if I offended.”

Hannah cupped her elbows in her hands, giving the arena one last scan, “I don't see him. Would he had left the castle?”

“He never has before.” Jeremy let his head fall back, looking up into the star strewn, inky sky. Winter nights were always the most beautiful. An endless supply of perfect lights twinkling above. Suddenly the elf's shoulders stiffened. “Oh Maker! Shit!”

“What?” Hannah followed his gaze. Her breath caught. A silhouette she was certain she knew was standing on the roof of the nearby armory. His face too was turned heavenward, as if searching the stars for answers. “Oh fuck!” Some part of her admonished her for the foul language, but she ignored it, already following Jeremy at a run. They charged into the armory and took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Jeremy, ahead of her, tripped and she grappled him back to his feet without breaking stride, ignoring his muttered thanks.

There was no ladder up to the roof, but a window was open. The cold air hissed into the little used attic storage room. It was dark, save for the moon light provided by the window, and the lantern light from below in the armory. Hannah little heeded the small chests and crates around the room as she made her way across. She grabbed the sill and leaned her head and most of her torso out, looking up. She could see the route her king had taken. Grabbing the lip of the roof above and pulling himself up.

“Hannah?” Jeremy asked. She felt his hand grasp her belt. She was leaning out quite far she realized with a start.

“Rope,” she snapped, pulling herself in slightly.

To her surprise the elf did as she instructed. He darted away back down the stairs and returned with the rope. He held the coil at looked at her. “Who goes up?”

“I will,” Hannah reached for the rope.

Jeremy held it back for a moment, considering. “Maybe I had better. I've seen the king like this before. I think I can talk him down.”

Hannah fought back an annoyed sound. She hated waiting back while someone else dealt with an issue. Holding the rope and hoping for their safe return like some...woman. She bit her tongue and gestured to the window. The king did not have time for her to stew.

Jeremy pulled the end of the rope around himself. Hannah redid his knot for him. “Who taught you to tie this?”

“I did,” he smirked as she worked skillfully.

The knot secure, Jeremy moved to the window, pulling himself up onto the sill in one motion. Hannah had to admire that he didn't hesitate, simply grasped the icy roof and hauled himself up, long legs dangling for a moment as he climbed. Hannah kept the rope taught, looped around a beam and back to her where she had tied it around her own body. She knew she was heavier than the elf. He could be called skinny, even if he was well muscled. Elves were always so scrawny. If he lost his balance she could counterweight him well.

There was a long moment where all she could hear was mumbling from above. The rope was ripped this way and that by the wind. She braced, her fingers freezing and sore against the fibers that tore at her skin. Why hadn't she brought her gloves?

And then there were legs. King Alistair's. He swung back in through the window and he landed on hands and knees on the floor. Hannah didn't dare run to him for fear a sudden slack in the rope might cause her partner to fall. “Are you alright, highness?” she asked urgently.

The king shook his blond head. His skin was red and raw from the cold wind. Maker, he was still in his sleeping clothes. He looked up at her with baleful blue eyes the color of a winter dawn. His voice was a croak, but he answered, and his expression was clear. Free of any of the visions people claimed he was sometimes taken by. “Yes.”

Jeremy vaulted back into the room, panting and just as red-faced. He shook numb fingers as Hannah let the rope go and rushed to Alistair's side. She knelt and threw her arm around her king, offering him her warmth as her fellow squire untied himself. She spared a moment to glance at the king's feet. At least he had put boots on. Small favors. She grabbed his hands and blew on them, rubbing them between her own.

“Be calm,” the king spoke, this time less hoarsely. He stilled Hannah's hands gently. “I will live. Don't fret over me.”

“It's my job, actually,” Hannah pointed out, helping the man to stand. Gratifyingly he trusted his weight to her. She felt an arm against hers which went around Alistair's back. It was Jeremy's. He was at the king's other side, helping.

The pair walked their ruler out of the armory and back across the courtyard. They entered a small, side door so as not to be noticed by the guard or any castle servants. The king slept in a separate room from his queen. Hannah had thought nothing of this. She had assumed it was what most royal couples did. She knew that the king and queen shared little in the way of romance. Their marriage had been one of convenience, and the years had clearly not taught them to love one another. Now Hannah wondered if the king still longed for the woman he had once loved. An elvish maiden who had gone to her death slaying the Archdemon. An elvish woman with a tattooed face. Hannah had heard stories of the Hero. How she appeared to be quiet, gentle. No one knew of the fire that had seemingly dwelt beneath this demure exterior. Enough fire to save a nation. Enough fire to save the world. Hannah hoped she could one day bring the smallest portion of such ferocity to bare.

The pair saw to the king in near silence. Hannah had a small tub of hot water sent up from the kitchen. She placed the king's feet into this as Jeremy wrapped him in a warm blanket. Finally the elf scolded quietly, “you had better be careful that you don't catch the cold that has been going around.”

Hannah glanced up. She had been dealing with the freezing night clothes her majesty had discarded in favor of new, warm ones. She knew the king did not mind casual joshing, but now hardly seemed the time.

“I know,” King Alistair shivered, in spite of the water and blankets. “What sort of king will I look like if my nose is all drippy? No courtier wants to see that.” He met both their gazes in turn. “I'm sorry to alarm you both like this. The song was...louder this tonight. I can resist it most of the time, but at night sometimes it can reach me. Claw its way through my defenses.”

Hannah winced. The darkspawn taint surged in the blood of the king. It marked him for an early death. For madness as the fabled 'song' overtook his mind. Yet the man before her looked as sane as she. He never acted as though he were plagued with voices calling to him darkly. The people sometimes feared his nature as a Grey Warden. Hannah saw only strength, not weakness. She admired this man. That was her true reason for wishing to serve him. Far stronger than her desire to prove herself.

Finally the pair got him tucked away into bed once more. Jeremy settled down on the cot set up at the other end of the room where the squire on duty was to sleep. Hannah hesitated. “Do you want me to stay the rest of the night?”

The elf tugged off a boot with a weary 'oof'. “It's alright. He never walks twice in one night.”

“That is a terrible reason for me to go,” she planted her hands on her hips, cocking them so he would know she meant business.

He chuckled. “The night's almost over. Go get some sleep,” he waved her off. Hannah sighed, turning to go. “Jones.”

She turned back at his call, her blonde braid swinging like a cord of rope. “Jeremy?”

“Good work tonight.”

“You too,” she grinned. She turned again and left, heading for her warm bed and the all too fast approaching dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> This is is a quick writing practice from last night. I had a few hours to kill and wanted to practice introducing characters in an interesting way. So we have Hannah and Jeremy, the two squires from my other fic "The New Ways of Old Gods".
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. More of their adventures might show up in the future.


End file.
